Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

RHEAI cook the noodles mostly because Roofus actually takes me up on the offer, then disappears into his room to get ready with an energy I don’t comment on.Now I’m in front of the mirror, fastening my earrings. I choose a dark red wig. My makeup stays simple. Clean skin, soft eyes. The only thing that really announces itself is my lipstick, a deep red that feels deliberate. I save the rest of the statement for the dress.It’s a black one I finished last week, like I somehow knew I’d need it. The bodice fits me perfectly, snug without being tight. The neckline dips just enough to feel intentional. The skirt skims my hips, loosening at my thighs, with a single slit at the back that reveals itself only when I move. I pick up the small clutch I made to match and tuck it under my arm.I smile at my reflection despite myself. It really is some of my best work.Dressing my best feels like the bare minimum. Tonight, I’ll be Mrs Rhea Voss. Given the kind of power I need to get my revenge, t

RHEAI try to calm myself down, even though it’s pointless. My body is still buzzing, skin warm from touches that barely counted as touches at all. I check my reflection in the car window, mostly composed, then look back down at the document resting in my lap.The same one he handed me at his house.The marriage agreement.Already signed on his end.I click my tongue.“Getting cold feet?” Damien asks.It’s almost casual, the way he says it, like he hasn’t been watching me nonstop since we stopped at the red light. His attention never fully leaves my face. Even when he checks the road, it’s like he’s still aware of me in his peripheral vision, like I’m something he refuses to stop tracking.I shift slightly in my seat, pretending it doesn’t get under my skin.“Maybe,” I say, noncommittal. I’m not nervous. Not really. I’m just thinking. City Hall is only a few minutes away now, close enough that I can almost feel it waiting.His mouth curves, slow and knowing. “Want me to warm them up f

RHEA“Mr. and Mrs. Voss, your private seats are ready,” the attendant says, bowing slightly as he presents a tray. I barely register what’s on it before Damien takes it from him and guides me forward with a hand at my back.The room opens into something like a balcony—private, shaded, tucked away. We can see the auction floor perfectly, every movement, every raised paddle. But from below, we’re just silhouettes. Unseen. Untouchable.Perfect.“Mr. and Mrs. Voss,” I repeat as Damien pulls my chair out for me. I sit. “You move fast.”He smiles like it amuses him. Like it pleases him. “We were already a done deal, mine. I just had to wait for you to catch up.”Annoyingly, he’s not wrong.The Black Ledger is exactly what I imagined—right down to the name. Dark, polished, and dripping with quiet arrogance. Everything here whispers money and power, the kind that makes people walk taller simply because they’re allowed through the doors.He takes the seat beside me, one arm stretched along the

RHEAI thought seeing Victor and Elara for the first time in five years would tear open the fragile glue I’d used to hold my sanity together. Instead… all I feel is disgust.They’d taken a naïve nineteen-year-old girl—someone who’d known nothing but trauma and loneliness—and turned her world upside down. Four years of manipulation, of being used, of believing in a future with them, only to be left to crumble alone. And now… here they are, sitting together like the perfect little couple.Their balcony is hidden from everyone else in the room, just like ours, but I can see everything. I watch Victor abruptly yank his hand from Elara’s, his lips moving furiously, anger written across his posture. And I see her—the carefully constructed image of perfection—tearing at the edges. Her face is streaked with tears.Where have you hidden my daughter, Victor?I send Titan a message.[They’re here.][Got it. Give me four hours.]I drop my phone, reaching for the glass of wine Damien offers. The w

ELARA“Where is she?” I hiss at the attendant.She’s thin. Forgettable. The kind of girl who thinks her little badge and rehearsed politeness make her important. She repeats the same sentence she’s been giving me all night, voice calm, eyes steady—but I can see it. The judgment. The quiet satisfaction.She’s mocking me.Everyone is.All because of that stupid, irrelevant bitch.Aurora.My nails bite into my palms as I clench my fists. I should have killed her when I had the chance.She was nothing—an orphan with a little talent and no protection. Useful. Disposable. A few kind words, a little manufactured affection, and she’d let Victor and me walk all over her without question. Everything had gone exactly as planned. She hadn’t even realised what we’d done to her—convinced she’d had an abortion, never knowing we’d taken her womb along with it.Perfect. Clean. Final.I’d paid the prison guards generously. Watched the videos they sent me. Of her body. The grave. I’d believed it.I’d be